Life in Black and White
by Vioshine
Summary: There's measles in Manhattan! (Very dangerous disease, back in the day.) That's the central plot of this story, but it skews all over the place, careening from a trip to Brooklyn to gather recruits(plot related) and a little tyke joining the scene (xtra).
1. Life in Black and White: Plain and Simpl...

A/N: Oopsies I'm scared. I heard on another fic mention of the fact that an article was read containing info on fanfic writers being sued. So I uploaded a revised version of this chapter with a disclaimer! If you ask me, suing fanficcers is silly 'cause we all know that they are write stories based on other peoples ideas… In this case Newsies is owned by Disney.  
  
Disclaimer: Please don't sue me. I never said I owned newsies. I never will. Disney has that good luck. (I'll buy it! Three pennies!) This disclaimer will count for all my chaps unless I feel like writing another disclaimer. Hehehe… Viva les Bill et Ted! (I do not own Bill and Ted in either of their Adventures)  
  
Life in Black and White  
  
It was rainy, the streets of Manhattan drenched with water. The morn was early; so early that practically everybody of importance and some with none whatsoever were still in bed and asleep. And yet somewhere, in that early drizzly morn, machines were running at full tilt as the printing presses tried to prepare for a wave of young newsies, ready and rested for the day's job ahead. Frantically, workers manned the printers, fighting against time to be finished before the bell rang.  
  
But the bell did ring, and the gates swung open. Newsies from the far corners of Manhattan came rushing in, scrambling around one another to be first to get the daily papes. Cowboy, as usual, got there first.  
  
"How many papes today?" Weasel asked, not in the friendliest manner.  
  
"Let me see the headlines …" Weasel motioned. A girl working at the printing presses brought forward a bundle.  
  
"Lemme guess; a hundred papes as usual, eh?"  
  
"Tanx, Weeeasel. Here's your dough."  
  
"Now scram, and don't call me Weasel again, ya hear?"  
  
Meanwhile, in the presses, workers rushed to meet the demands of the voice below, always shouting "Come on, come on, come on! Keep it comin', keep it comin'! Come on, come on, come on!" Distributors packaged bundles; fifty papes, thirty, twenty, tied in tough twine. Fingers bled, palms were rubbed raw, feet hurt.  
  
The Dulancy brothers came up, and Weasel spotted them an extra five papes apiece. One young girl, infuriated, packaged an extra pape in the next newsie's bundle. After counting 'em, the boy looked up and winked, trying not ta grin. Then he wandered away, assessing the headlines.  
  
Jack Kelly's voice could be heard in the distance, shouting out one or another exaggerated headline; the crowd in the courtyard thinned, and eventually the last newsies wandered out, shouting they're wears.  
  
After a break when the next issue was delivered to the presses, the kids reloaded and started working again. The voices of newsies continued to haunt the streets, fainter and less frequent as last papes were sold or the sellers gave up. All through the late morn to early afternoon, as the rain continued to drop, the kids at the press worked, less rushed for time, preparing the afternoon issue. The afternoon newsies came, got they're papes, and the kids from the presses left.  
  
The last to leave the courtyard were two girls, one draping a shawl over her shoulders to keep her at least a little dry, the other pulling a Jeff cap a little further down over her long, braided hair. The rain wasn't that bad, only a slight sprinkle really, but the walk home was a long one. As they walked, the girls chatted.  
  
"Don't see why ya insist on wearing that Jeff cap, Zelly." One of the girls, with short brown hair and brown eyes, said.  
  
" 'Cause" the other one, obviously Zelly, said back. "It's all I got to cover my head. I'll take that shawl if ya want." And with that Zelly made a pretend grab at her friend's shawl. The young girl ducked away.  
  
"No, thanks anyway," the brunette said.  
  
Zelly shrugged. "Worth a try anyway." A quick grin lit her face then disappeared, as she looked intently at her friend. "Bronx, I heard that ya spotted some newsboy an extra pape …"  
  
It was Bronx's turn to shrug. "Hey, Weasel spotted two boys five each. It's not fair."  
  
"It ain't, but Weasel won't fire himself. He'll fire you if you get caught. Please, Bronxy, don't get on Weasel's bad side.  
  
"Everybody who isn't a scab or a snitch already is." Bronx muttered darkly.  
  
"Who was it, anyway?"  
  
"Who I gave the pape to? Dunno, don' care." Bronx replied.  
  
The young girls passed a newsie on the side of the street. Business wasn't going that well; nobody was even in site in any direction. Bronx pulled to the side.  
  
"Wanna buy a pape?" the boy asked hopefully.  
  
"Nah, thanks," Zelly said, pulling back a little. "Barely gots enough to pay for bread as it is."  
  
"Hey, kid, how's it going?" That was Bronx.  
  
"Not good," the newsboy replied. "Nobody comes out in the rain. An me papes are soaked so bad ye can't read the headlines." He shoved a bleary pape in the girls' faces. "Sure ye don't wanna buy? Help me out lots."  
  
"Sorry, can't," Bronx said. "Gotta go on now anyways."  
  
"Seeya!" the newsboy said after them. Then, as a likely-looking customer came down the street, he started shrieking. "Extry, extry, read all about it! 'Refuge still up and running!' Extry, extry …"  
  
The two girls hurried on their way.  
  
The girls burst into a tall, stark building and, after Bronx hung up her shawl and Zelly her Jeff cap, they headed wearily toward the stairs. A dull thud, thud, thud as both girls walked up to the second story announced their arrival; their mark was left among many other muddy prints covering the old wood floor.  
  
Upstairs was a small landing, then a long, narrow corridor lined with doors. At the far end a faint stream of light poured through the old yellow window, revealing peeling wallpaper and a patch of worn flooring. Other than the stairs the girls had just come up, there was another flight leading to the third floor.  
  
Zelly and Bronx's room was down the corridor and to the left; they shared it with one other girl. This is where they headed. There was still time before dinner and chores; they could change and go downstairs to the lounge.  
  
Each girl had two sets of clothing, one to wear and one to be washed. Then they had socks, undergarments, and if they were lucky, a nun might give them a winter coat. Other then that, they got one light meal a day and free board from the sisters, in exchange for doing chores. It wasn't a bad deal; but most of the girls still did jobs on the side to get a little more food in they're stomachs, or a heavier blanket to sleep under, or boots to wear on their feet during winter. Zelly and Bronx already had boots; they were donated to the nuns by some rich person and they were really too big for the girls feet. But bigger was better than smaller, because at least the girls could grow into they're shoes.  
  
After they had pulled off their outer dresses and pulled on dry ones, they hung their wet clothing over the bunk and went downstairs. In the lounge a fire was lit in the fireplace, and girls were chatting or doing small chores. Younger children ran around the room, playing with some old, much worn rag dollies. Girls sat everywhere, on chairs, the large sofa, the top of the desk in the corner. Zelly chose a spot on the floor and Bronx took a seat on the arm of the chair. Next to them a girl was doing some mending; her chore for the evening. Bronx was on the roster for mopping and Zelly had to help wash dishes after dinner.  
  
The two friends chatted until Bronx went to do chores, then Zelly passed the time with some of her other friends. Several times during the evening girls came running crying over a torn rag doll. Mending Girl fixed all those problems. Then came dinner, then Zelly's chores. Bronx stayed upstairs and played cards with her other roommate; they kept a deck stashed under a loose floorboard. The nuns, of course, prohibited cards and marbles of any sort. Zelly came and they dealt her in, then they hid the cards quickly as a nun came for the nightly check-up. Then the girls went to bed.  
  
The first person to wake up the next morning was Zelly. She roused Bronx and they headed toward the presses. However, neither bothered waking their roommate. The girl's job didn't require getting up so early.  
  
When Lids Conlon first applied for her job, the person who ran the place was a little taken aback. Not much, just a little. After all, female newsies aren't that uncommon on the streets of Manhattan. Just a little unusual. Unusual enough to make Lids a target for some newsies to tease.  
  
But Lids quickly earned her place. On a bad day she could sell thirty-five papes. On a good day, maybe even more.  
  
Lids did finally wake, barely on time to pick up her merchandise. Pulling fifty papes and a loaf of bread's worth of money from her pouch under the loose floorboard, she hopped into her britches and pulled an itchy linen shirt over her head. She left the boarding house barefoot and ran across the street, rushing to get to the courtyard on time. The only stop she made was to grab an apple at a stall and pay her bread coin for it. Then she went her way.  
  
Within good time Lids had made it to the courtyard. She stood at the distributor's window, analyzing the headlines. Finally, taking a large bite of her apple, she turned around and said "Forty papes, Weasel, and I'm counting 'em, so don't do nothing tricky."  
  
Weasel sneered. "Give her forty papes on the dot, kid, and make 'em snappy." A young boy handed Weasel the papes. He tossed them to Lids. "There, girly, now scram!"  
  
Lids didn't "scram," however, until she was sure she had her forty papes. Then she was on her way to her selling spot, screaming her wares all the way there.  
  
It was a good day for Lids Conlon. She sold her papes before noon, and with the money she'd made she got a loaf of bread from a nearby bakery. She sat on the steps of some house, munching away, eyeing a puppet show across the street. Then she got up, brushed the crumbs from her lap, and wandered around the streets of Manhattan. She peeked into shop windows, staring at the tailored boots and pretty dresses that only uptown New Yorkers could afford. She watched the street corner acts. Every now and then she stopped to talk to a newsie she knew.  
  
By three the afternoon papes were out. Lids bought more this time. Seems the stockmarket on Wallstreet had rose. Rich old gentlemen investors would wanna hear about that. Sellings would be good.  
  
When Lids got home that night she followed the regular schedule, doing chores, eating dinner, playing marbles with her roommates and a few other friends. Then the nuns came and lights went out.  
  
Life proceeded same as usual for a few weeks. Then the girls' routine Manhattan world was turned upside down. 


	2. Outbreak

It all started with one little dot. Reddish brown. Popped up on the arm of some kid down in Queens, rumor has it. Although some say it all started on the hand of a fellow in the Bronx. A few even speculate that a newsie in Brooklyn got it first, but that's nonsense. Everyone knew they had an epidemic like it in Brooklyn before, five years earlier. So people there were, then, immune. Whatever the case, Manhattan was one of the last places hit with it.  
  
Measles was going around the working class world of New York City. The disease spread rapidly through the closed and cramped factories, infecting most everybody who hadn't had it already. Chimney sweeps seemed to be getting pneumonia from it; their lungs were filled with black dust that made breathing harder for them then usual. Kids working at odd jobs, selling their service on the streets every day, became less frequent as more and more became ill. The sickness spread like wildfire, and of course it affected some of the newsboys and girls, and the kids working in the presses.  
  
The first girl at the boarding house to become sick was Mending Girl. In a few days others got it, too, and the nuns affected a quarantine almost immediately. Little kids, especially, were infected, and the ones that weren't were distressed that nobody was there to play with them, or fix ripped dollies. They began seeking out the older children for entertainment. So one night Lids was telling the kids a story.  
  
"You know," she began, "something like this sickness happened a long time ago, in a distant land. And there were lots of people in this land, and most all of them were sick. And the great, powerful, respected king of this land had no idear what to do. So he put all the sick folks in a huge fortress, and caught one big awful dragon to guard the place. And people were free to go into the fortress anytime they wanted, but leaving was a different story. Nobody left until the sickness was over."  
  
Lids looked around. Bronx sat on an armchair, one little girl snuggled into her lap. Zelly was on the floor, chin propped on hands, legs folded, amid a flock of small children. Others her age were tending to the kids while listening to Lids' story. Lids was, herself, surrounded by girls.  
  
She continued her tale. "People were falling ill all over the place. The king offered a great reward to whoever could find a cure. One by one, folks from around the kingdom took a go at it, but nobody could get it right.  
  
"Then one day, out of the blue it seems, a knight came strolling into the kingdom, swinging his sword by his side. He was strutting around like there was no tomorrow, and he was so quiet and grand and full of hisself that everybody split to both sides of the road when he came near. So he gets to the palace, and walks right up to the guards and looks at 'em, and they melted into little quiverin' heaps at his feet and he goes right on in. He walked straight into the king's private rooms and announced, without any bravado or nuthin', that he was going to cure all the people in the land and he wanted part of the kingdom in return. The king, he just kinda blinked, and the knight nodded and then he was gone.  
  
"A few days later the knight strolled right casual into the fortress and past the dragon with a whole caravan of people and carts at his back." Here one of the little kids asked what a caravan was. Lids explained, and the story continued. "He brought all kinds of magical stuffs with him, and for some reason he couldn't get sick, and neither could anybody he had brought with him. So the knight started the hard business of getting the sick better. The first thing he pulled out were huge bottles of water, kinda like potions, and he made everybody drink lots of the stuff every day. Then he put special rags on the face. When they were wet, they cooled down fevers. He did lots of stuff like that, and in a while everybody in the whole fortress was better, and there wasn't any sickness in the kingdom anymore." The little kids cheered.  
  
"So the knight went to get his reward, and the king was so happy he offered the knight a choice of any section of the kingdom he wanted. So the knight, he chose to have absolute control of anything that had to do with the presses. And that's the end." Lids looked around. Everyone seemed happy with her story.  
  
As soon as Lids' tale was done, the little girl sitting on Bronx's lap whispered up into her ear "I don't feel so good." Bronx felt the young girl's head, then gave Zelly a look and, interpreting it correctly, Zelly got up and together with Bronx quietly escorted the little girl out of the room. Nobody but Lids noticed, and she had already started another story about the brave knight's adventures.  
  
Zelly led the way out into the corridor up two flights of stairs. Bronx tagged along behind, holding the hand of the little girl reassuringly. At the third floor, Zelly turned down a hallway and rapped on one of the nuns doors. It opened, and Bronx knelt down beside the little girl. "Your gonna hafta go with the nun now, sweety." The little girl cringed. "What's your name?"  
  
"Mary," she said. "Mouse."  
  
"Mary Mouse?"  
  
"You can just call me Mouse. Everyone does. It's my nickname."  
  
"An' my name's Bronx, Mouse. This here's Zelly. Now can ya go with the nun? She'll make ya feel all better."  
  
"I guess. Will I see ya again, Bronx?"  
  
"Later. I promise. But I gotta go now. Okay?"  
  
"Okay." Mouse trotted over to the nun. As she closed the door, smiling at Bronx and Zelly, Mouse waved to them from behind the nun's skirt. "See ya, Bronx. And Zelly."  
  
"Bye Mouse. See ya later!" The two girls walked down the hallway.  
  
"Ya think she'll be all right, Zelly?" Bronx asked.  
  
"Dunno. Cute little tyke. Reminds me o' me own sister. Hope she'll be fine."  
  
The girls opted for going straight their room instead of heading back towards the fire downstairs. There, Zelly dropped straight into bed and fell fast asleep. Bronx stayed up awhile. She lifted the loosened floorboard and pulled out a deck of cards. Dejectedly, she played a one- sided game of poker with herself. Even though poker isn't really a lady's game. Or for that matter, a one-person game. She thought to herself. She was glad when Lids slid quietly into the room.  
  
"Zelly asleep?" she asked, whispering. Bronx nodded. "That girl can sleep anywhere, anytime." Lids shook her head in amazement.  
  
"You mean everywhere, all the time." Bronx said ruefully. Lids laughed. "And I really wanted some company, too."  
  
"Whatsa matter?" Lids asked.  
  
"Just lonely, I guess," Bronx relpied.  
  
"Bothers ya, don't it? That all the kids are dropping off, getting sick." Lids asked.  
  
"Yea. I mean, what is this anyway? Probably soon they'll quarantine this place, and I won't have any money for food 'cause I can't go work, and then I'll starve 'cause the food here really ain't that great." Bronx sniffed. Lids gave her a playful shove.  
  
"Ya great softy. Look, I been thinking. There's somebody I know might be able ta help us. But I'm gonna hafta get off the island for a few days. Cover for me, will ya?" Bronx looked at her friend.  
  
"Where're ya goin'?"  
  
"I don't really know, but I got a rough idea. Just do my chores for me while I'm gone, 'kay?"  
  
Bronx thought a second. "Only if I get to eat your share of the food. I'm not doing more work for nothing."  
  
"It ain't for nothing, but go ahead. Food'll go more rotten than it already is 'fore I get back," Lids said. Then she crawled to her cot. "Wake me when you get up. I'm leaving early tomorrow." With that, she fell into bed. Bronx dealt another set of cards, muttering to herself.  
  
"Yeah right, her wake up, hah. Why does everybody in my room seem to have a sleep disorder? Gimme two cars, Bronx. What, you're taking three? Must have a pretty bad hand." 


	3. Brothers

A/N: Hey, sorry if this is a little perfect goil kinda thing. 'Cause it's not meant to be. I'm trying to develop the characters and this is how they turned out in this chapter. Constructive criticism and, or course, nice comments appreciated.  
  
Disclaimer: I'm not part of Disney and I had no idea newsies existed before I watched the movie. Please don't sue me… this is a fanfic. Also, Lids belongs to Dezba, aka Mizz Destiny. I think she has a fic about her called What's Worse.  
  
Third Chapter  
  
Lids left early in the morning the next day. She had most of her belongings placed in a little pack over her shoulder, mainly 'cause what she owned was an extra shirt and some money and she'd need both for her travels. Later that day she crossed the threshold between the Brooklyn- Manhattan Bridge and actual Brooklyn.  
  
"Hey Georgy!" she called over at a newsie standing on a corner near the bridge. "Where's the great and powerful leader hisself?"  
  
"Beats me, Lids, kid rarely says where he's going. Least not ta me, he don't."  
  
"Great help you are!" Lids said, turning to face the main avenue. The curly haired boy bowed.  
  
"Glad to be off service, m'lady."  
  
Lids smiled. "Lay off the Shakespeare, Georgy. I need to find Spot Conlon. You done selling your papes?"  
  
"Almost. I can leave off my job now, I guess. Stewed papes sounds good for dinner tonight."  
  
"I'll help ya sell 'em on the way. Though I'm not sure you wouldn't eat that junk if you were hungry enough."  
  
Lids grabbed half of Georgy's papes and started walking. The slightly younger, slightly plumper boy struggled to keep up.  
  
It was early afternoon when Lids finally arrived at the local Newsies' hangout, a little restaurant kind of like Tibby's. She walked into it and greeted the shopkeeper. "Hey Al, seen Spot around anywhere?"  
  
"Lids Conlon? Is that you?" When Lids nodded, Al continued, "No, sorry kid, I haven't seen him anywhere today. But knowing business, your crowd'll be coming in anytime now. So how's it going, kid?"  
  
"Not good. Epidemic and all, wiping out business in the city. Need me bro for some pointers and such. What's on the menu today?"  
  
"Your old favorite, kid. Ham sandwich with the egg salad on the side. Or in it, if you prefer."  
  
"Sounds great," Lids said. "How much?"  
  
"Five cents is all. I got a special running today for old friends." Then Al turned in Georgy's direction. "What about you, Georgy? Anything special for youse?"  
  
"Depends. Do I count as an old friend?" When the restaurant owner shook his head and laughed, Georgy sighed. "Worth a try, anyway. Gimme a lemonade, Al. Maybe I'll get something else later." He pulled out his sellings from the days papes and looked at them regretfully. "Much later," he added, paying Al a penny in exchange for the drink. Then he turned and went over to sit next to Lids, who was perched on a stool by the counter at the far end of the room.  
  
"So Lids, what are youse planning to do? I mean, after you see Spot and all?" Georgy asked, taking a sip of his lemonade and looking wistfully at Lids sandwich.  
  
"Dunno Georgy. But you know me and Spot. We get along excellent together."  
  
Georgy snorted. "Like real neighbors. Butting heads all the time, yelling, screaming, kicking, biting…"  
  
"I never bit nobody, and you know that."  
  
"Pardon me, I forgot, real ladies don't bite."  
  
"That's right," Lids said, turning her nose of jokingly, "We goils only hiss and scratch."  
  
"Real hoity-toity like, eh?"  
  
Lids punched Georgy on the arm, lightly. "I ain't hoity-toity and I never will be and you knows that." Georgy laughed. A bell jingled as the store door opened. The boy glanced nonchalantly in the direction to see who it was. Then he paled, and turned his back quickly on the newcomers, hunching his back nervously over the counter.  
  
"Your bro," he hissed.  
  
Bronx was walking home with Zelly from the presses. Both were exhausted, but they still chatted wearily as they traveled home.  
  
"Tell the truth, Bronx, I don't think I can take it anymore. Everything's been changing lately."  
  
"Everything changes all the time," Bronx said. "No way to avoid it. But I know what you mean. No more surprises for me. I'm going home, eating, and dropping into bed."  
  
"After chores, of course."  
  
Bronx groaned. "Maybe we should just lodge with the newsies. I don't think they got to do chores, do they?"  
  
"No way am I lodging with boys!" Zelly exclaimed. "'Sides, we work at the presses. We're not newsies."  
  
"Lids could be the diplomatin. You know, like, works it out for us?"  
  
Zelly laughed. "For some reason, I don't think that's the right word."  
  
"Oh well." The two girls turned the last corner to the boarding house. Bronx looked towards the three story brick building. "Oh no," she breathed.  
  
Zelly looked up. "Wait, aren't those your brothers?" She asked. "Don't they live on the other side of town? What're they doing here?"  
  
"I don't know, but they always want something from me." They approached the building. Standing in front were about six of Bronx's brothers. Five older, one younger. They greeted her.  
  
"Hullo," one of them said, but she cut them off.  
  
"What're you doing here, Malcolm? And why'd you bring Luke?" She glanced at the little 6-year-old boy.  
  
"Look, kid, sorry we gotta do this to you…" the oldest began.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Let me finish! See, we have a problem. We're trying to get ma and da here from Scotland, you know that. And Luke, he just gets in the way. He eats up every sent we earn."  
  
"He's a growing boy! How do you expect him to not be hungry? Beside, I'm helping to pay for our parents' passage here too!"  
  
"We do more and you know it," Malcolm said.  
  
"Well I could save more if I didn't have to support myself! But somebody kicked me out, didn't they?"  
  
"Look, we didn't kick you out."  
  
"Yes you did!" Bronx shouted.  
  
"Just take the kid," Malcolm said, ignoring his little sister. "Please, Bronx?"  
  
"Just for Luke and not you, you know that?"  
  
"Fine, whatever. We'll come and visit you sometime. You know where we are if you run into hard times."  
  
Bronx muttered under her breath. Her older brothers hurried off, leaving Luke behind with their little sister. He looked up at her with big bright eyes.  
  
"Am I in the way, Annie?" Bronx looked down at him. She couldn't resist that puppy face; her hard expression melted.  
  
"Not at all kid," she answered, ruffling his hair. "And it's Bronx around the girls, okay?"  
  
"Sure Annie. Whatever you say." He reached up and took her hand in his small one. Bronx looked up miserably at Zelly. She mouthed one word "nuns." Zelly nodded.  
  
"They'll be trouble," she whispered so that Luke didn't hear.  
  
A/N: Ahh! This is almost pure dialogue! Oh well, I think I'm going through a dialogue phase. As evidenced by my next chapter. Hmmm… 


	4. Back from Brooklyn

Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies. Or the Simpsons. Or the cure to the common cold. I don't even own 2 cents. Actually, that's a lie. I am really rich! I own three cents. *holds up three pennies triumphantly* *Simpsons character appears out of nowhere and grabs money* *"Yonk!"* Hey!  
  
A/N: This is the fourth chap to my fic! Yay me! I just wanted to say R&R, which is, Read (or Don't Read) and Relax. I like Reviews too, though. *hint* *hint*  
  
Chapter 4  
  
"Face it, Becc. It's life!"  
  
Lids, huffing and puffing and red in the face, stood, opposing her brother. Spot was as calm as usually, with only a little bit of temper shown by his expression. Only Rebecca could get him to yell like that. Even then, it wasn't easy to rile him up.  
  
"I don't care if it's life! Look, these are your friends, Spot. At least you should try to help them!"  
  
"To what end? People in Brooklyn risking their lives, to help people who can't be helped? No matter what you might think, I don't have a magic cure."  
  
"I said you could try!"  
  
"No one tried five years ago when we were sick, did they?"  
  
"Manhattan'll say the same about you when the time comes."  
  
"Too bad. I need to look after my newsies. Lids, I stand for their rights! The strike supported those rights, but this doesn't! And I'm not putting them in danger for some kids in the City!"  
  
Lids stayed silent, trying to think up a plausible enough argument. Just as she started to open her mouth again, her brother turned his back on her. He spoke, quietly.  
  
"Take anyone who'll go with you, Becc."  
  
"Thanks, Spot. That's all I needed. It's an opening." And she stalked off.  
  
Lids slumped towards the Brooklyn Bridge later that day, with the meager band of helpers she had managed to get. Five or six people, she guessed. Georgy, of course. Polo, Bowler, and Vamp were there. And the Twins. Counting again, Lids realized there were seven new recruits, including her dear friend, Slingshot Janie.  
  
"Thanks for coming," Lids said. "I wouldn't have got anybody if not for you."  
  
"It's nothing. What are friends for, hunh?" Sling replied casually.  
  
"Try telling that to Spot," Lids muttered.  
  
"Hey, now, that's not fair. Spot's a good leader and you know it."  
  
"Right," Lids grumbled.  
  
"I bet he wanted to go just as much as you did. But he's got responsibilities. Think about it, Lids."  
  
"Well, I'm surprised this good leader is letting his goil go."  
  
"I'm my own goil, and Spot knows that by now. 'Sides, you think he had a choice? He said take any newsie who would go. And I'd willingly let da bulls have him if he broke that promise." Slingshot smiled.  
  
"And that's bad, coming from you." Lids looked around at her band of newsies. Georgy had dropped behind and was talking to some newsie. She called to him.  
  
"Georgy, hurry up kid, or we're not waiting for you to yell over the Bridge!"  
  
Georgy ran up to Lids. "Sorry, Lids. That newsie had something to tell me. He says that Spot sends a message through the grapevine. Says that he wants you to bring his newsies back safely." He started to stride alongside Lids and Sling. Lids walked taller. "If anyone gets hurt, he says that he's gonna have to do something drastic. Like banishing or something… Hey, wait up. Lids! Wait!" Georgy started to drop behind. Finally, he stopped, breathless, and rested his hands on his knees. "No fair! Your legs are longer than mine! Haven't you ever heard of not slaying the messenger!"  
  
Lids stopped. She turned. "Sorry, Georgy. Spot just has me peaked, ya know?"  
  
"S'all right, I know how you two bug each other," Georgy said.  
  
Sling, who had stopped further on, motioned with her head up the Brooklyn Bridge, towards Manhattan. "Come on. It'll be dark by the time we get there, and quite frankly, I don't want to be wondering the streets at night."  
  
Zelly took Luke to the kitchen and kept him washing dishes while Bronx talked with the nuns. Hopefully, he was young enough to stay with them even though the boarding house was girls only.  
  
"Zelly," the little boy complained, lifting his soapy hands out of the water. "My fingers are all shriveled now. When can I stop?"  
  
"Shh, Luke, be a good kid while Bronx is talking with the Sisters. When she's done, I'll take you to the common room and we'll play by the fire, okay?"  
  
"'Kay." He looked at his hands again and stuck them back in the water. Zelly watched what he was doing.  
  
"Oh no!" she cried. "Luke, roll up you sleeves. Here, like this." Luke stood, arms outstretched, watching Zelly roll up his soaked shirt sleeves. Then he turned around and stuck his hands back in the sink, reaching around for a plate. He pulled one out and started to dry it with the almost soaked dish towel.  
  
"Here," Zelly said, reaching behind the kitchen door and retrieving another rag that hung on the hooks, "use this now."  
  
"Where do I put the other one?"  
  
"Just stick it on the side of the sink. Right there." Zelly smiled. "Good. Thanks for all your help, Luke."  
  
The little boy beamed. "It's no problem. Is Bronx done yet?"  
  
"Not yet." Right then Bronx walked in the room.  
  
"See!" Luke exclaimed, running over to his older sister. "I told you she was done!" Zelly rolled her eyes.  
  
"What did the nuns say?"  
  
Bronx hugged Luke close to her. "They said it was fine."  
  
"Woohoo!" Zelly shouted.  
  
"But," she said, letting go of her brother and holding up her index finger, "He's in his own room. And he leaves when he's ten."  
  
"Who cares? That's four years from now!" She shook her head back and forth gleefully. "Now, if ya don't mind, you have chores to finish. So there!" And grabbing Luke's hand, she raced to the common room. Bronx looked at the puddles of soapy water and the small pile of half dry dishes and shook her head.  
  
"The nuns are gonna kick Lids out." 


End file.
